Copyright ©2020 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved.
No part of this chronicle may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher, Creole Gaudet.
We’d left the movies and were on our way home. “Sway, I need to drop you off, baby. I’m gonna go and meet up with my guy. You don’t mind waiting for me, do you?”
“Are you going to be safe?”
“Yeah, these are my peeps. I’ve been fucking with them for a good while.”
“I’m scared, Andre.”
“No, nothing to be scared about. Just chill and I’ll be back in no time, okay?” She stared out her window. “Come on, don’t do that. I promise you have nothing to worry about.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive.”
I’d left Sway at the room and headed East to a Chevron near Shiloh Road.
I went in and paid for some gas. As I pumped, my connect pulled alongside, we did our thing, and he was gone. I placed the cap back on, got in, and drove away.
I took a quick sniff of the coke through the packaging, checking for potency before shoving it down into my underwear, nesting it high between my inner thigh and my nut-sack.
It’s not the best place to keep coke. Your body temperature, if warm enough, will make it soft and humid, but I was heading straight home with no stops.
It racks your nerves when you’re hot. You begin to imagine scenarios where, if being pulled over, how you’d run at least far enough to toss the shit out. Knowing you would probably be arrested anyway for evading the police or whatever list of charges they have on the books, it would still be better than being caught dirty.
I always make sure that I obey and observe every street sign and maintain the speed limits.
I pay attention to my surroundings, watching everything, but at the same time, trying to not let paranoia build.
A dealer with any sense or at least half a brain is always paranoid. But there is a fine line. You can’t be so nervous and on the edge that you freak the fuck out. It’s an art.
I’d pulled up to my place, looking around before exiting my car. As usual, I’d made a beeline to the entrance, only using my periphery to keep a lookout for anything unusual. The object is to make it inside. There, you are in full control again.
Sway and I were sitting at the kitchenette table when I placed the bag of coke onto it.
“That’s it?”
“This is a half ounce or half an onion.” I loosened the knot and opened it. I grabbed one of the lumps. “When I crack this open, I want you to see something.”
I held the broken piece close to her eyes. “You see that shine? If you ever hear them say fish scale, this is what they’re talking about. See how it looks like the scales of a fish?”
“It’s shiny.”
Using my finger, I removed a speck of cocaine the size of a skin pore. “Stick out your tongue.” I placed it on the very tip and waited for her reaction.
Sway tasted and swallowed. She looked to me. “I can’t feel my mouth… I can’t even feel my throat.”
I grinned. “That’s that good shit. It’s straight off the brick. Anything better than that, you don’t want to serve it.
“And you’re only going to get that from an ese, never the brothers.
“A brother will start out good, but sooner or later, he’s going to fuck you. The prices are going to start creeping up, your bag will be light, and then he’s going to drop some low-quality shit on you.
“With the Mexicans, I don’t even weigh it. I already know it’s on point.”
Sway was full of excitement. “I want to do something. How can I help?”
“Do you know how to break it down?”
“To make rocks?”
“No, for the nose.”
“Can you teach me?”
I retrieved a tablespoon, a bowl, my tea strainer, digital scale, and my baggies. I placed it all in front of her.
She quickly picked up the strainer. “You use this to make it into powder, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I try?”
“Okay. Let’s start with some of the shake from the bottom of the bag. Take your spoon and scoop some out.” Her hand shook nervously. “Hold on… What happens if some of it falls out?” She shoved it back in. “It’s alright, we’re just going to take a little bit at a time.” Sway moved carefully. “Good. Now, with your other hand, hold your strainer over your bowl.”
“And pour it in?”
“Yes, nice and easy.”
“I did it!”
“Now we’re going to take the back of the spoon and mash it through. Go back and forward, twisting or whatever is good for you. Just be careful because if we knock it over, we’re out of a lot of money.”
Sway peeked into the bowl. “I see it! It’s piling up!”
“Don’t get too close. You’re going to inhale it.”
Sway was fixated and meticulous. I watched as she completed the entire half ounce. “Now what?”
“Now we bag up. Half grams for forties and one hundred bags. I make my hundreds at one point three grams on the scale. That way, I don’t have to make balls. I can just combine three one hundreds.”
“Hold on…” Sway made a quick run to the bathroom and back. She was blowing into a wrap of toilet tissue.
“You know why your nose is runny, don’t you?”
“No… Really?”
“You have the drips.”
“I didn’t even do any.”
“You don’t have to.”
Sway watched closely as I bagged and weighed the first forty. “Aren’t you supposed to cut it with baking soda or something?”
“I could. There’s plenty of shit to cut it with. But I don’t.”
“Can’t you make more money though?”
“I charge more for quality.”
“Ah… That way, you only see people with a lot of money who are not going to argue over price. You’re very smart, Andre.”
Creole Gaudet
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